


Lost and Found

by ThiccThighBucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Depressed Bucky Barnes, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Sam Wilson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-06-28 05:21:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThiccThighBucky/pseuds/ThiccThighBucky
Summary: After Bucky has HYDRA wiped from his mind, his mental health continues to deteriorate with no sign of stopping, losing himself in the process. Steve's losing his roommate and can't decide what to do for the best. Will they find each other again?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lowkey this is the first time ive written anything pls tell me how trash it is and how it can be improved

It had been two weeks since Shuri had wiped HYDRA out of Bucky’s mind, though vague memories of his past life remained, haunting him. During his stay in Wakanda, his metal arm had been replaced with a vibranium upgrade and a white star was painted where the red one was previously, as a reminder that he was no longer on the wrong team. The new arm symbolised a new beginning, to which Bucky was forever grateful for and would never know how to repay Shuri for the miracle she had performed.

Bucky knew Shuri had tried her best to rid his mind of everything but the few memories that stayed intruded his dreams, resulting in painfully realistic nightmares which left Buck with only a few hours sleep per night, to only his knowledge. His most common nightmare was of when he was initially captured and taken over by HYDRA: he could feel every needle being injected into his body, every drill of the saw used to rid his body of his once-flesh left arm, every jolt of pain he would get whenever he was wiped. The dream only lasted minutes but it felt like hours for him. So for the past two weeks, without fail, he would wake from his dream a sweaty, anxious mess with tears streaming down his face showing no sign of stopping. He knew he had to seek psychological help, but he could never pick up the phone to arrange an appointment, and he would never put that weight on Steve’s shoulders, considering he thought Bucky was fine mentally.

Steve and Bucky had been friends since childhood but were separated during the war, resulting in immense emotional pain for them both. When Steve next saw Bucky, he was being attacked and was forced to fight his friend who was assumed to be dead. Steve managed to save Bucky after their fight and brought him to Wakanda, knowing that the princess would be able to save Bucky from his own mind. She was the only reason Bucky wasn’t suffering as much as he had been, and Steve was proud of himself for feeling like he’d finally helped his friend.

Friend. Bucky hated that word. He had been in love with his best friend Steve since they could understand their feelings, but steve couldn’t know. Why should he know? Steve was still broken from Peggy’s death, so Bucky knew he was straight, or at least bi. Bucky had known he wasn’t straight since he was born but Steve helped him realise how gay he really was. The amount of times Bucky had almost told Steve that he loved him was impossible to count, but he just knew he should never let Steve find out. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. Friendship.

A knock was heard at his bedroom door followed by a simple “you alright?” to which Bucky only nods and looks up, seeing a post-shower Steve in the doorway, water dripping from his damp hair, trailing down his torso and stopping at the white towel draped around his waist. “You sure? I thought I heard a scream,” Steve asks, his voice seemed to hold more concern than previous. Bucky hid his head under the covers, he knew today was the day he’d finally been caught having his bad dreams. Without a vocal answer from Buck, Steve gently placed himself at the edge of the single bed, knowing there was no way he could fit to lay next to Bucky. He slowly pulls the cover from Bucky to find a pale face with red eyes and tear stained cheeks, making Steve’s bright blue eyes fill with worry. “It was nothing, just a bad dream,” a small, croaky whisper came from the once unfeeling man, proving that his dream wasn’t just nothing to his infinitely concerned friend. “Come on pal, tell me what happened, I’m listening.” Pal. The tear stains were soon covered by fresh tears again, causing Steve to pull Bucky into a tight embrace. Knowing there was no way to escape, he just cried harder into the chest of the man he loves, feeling a sharp pain in his heart when he realises Steve would never love him back.

A few minutes pass before Bucky manages to contain himself, ending his emotional outburst with a slight sniffle. “I’m fine now, you can let go.” he mumbles with a hint of anger in his voice; he hated when people saw his emotions raw like that. Bucky wanted everyone to believe he was some happy man with no problems or worries, and he has succeeded until that very moment. His body dropped back onto the bed as Steve let go of him, a sigh of relief slips out of Bucky’s lips. “What’s wrong?” Steve asks, looking Buck in the eyes, borderline demanding an answer out of the frail man. Bucky looks into the large blue eyes, almost getting lost in them. “I told you, I’m fine,” he says with a small smile that only Steve would know was fake; Steve had known him too long to know the difference between a real and fake smile, but he never pushed for an answer unless it was serious.  
“I know you’re lying, if you don’t wanna talk about it now then it’s chill or whatever, I just wanna know what happened in your dream to make you scream.”  
“I’ll tell you another time.”  
“You better do or else-”  
“I will do,” he cuts Steve off and sighs, briefly checking his phone for the time, “look it’s 9am, just go make yourself some breakfast or something and leave me alone for abit. Okay?”

Taken aback by Bucky’s sudden angst, he gets up and leaves the room. “Door!” Bucky shouts, making his roommate go back and slam the door shut. Steve earns a “thank you!” before trudging off to the kitchen to make bacon and eggs. Thinking back to when he’d first seen the HYDRA-free winter soldier, Steve knew something wasn’t right about him: he wasn’t the same carefree man he knew before the war, he wasn’t laughing with people and cracking jokes, he even looked at Steve differently, as if it hurt to look at him. He thought maybe it was because he was in Wakanda and his surroundings weren’t like anything he’d seen before, so he bought an apartment in Brooklyn for the two to share, hoping that it would make him feel better. It didn’t work. Buck was still not taking care of himself, he hadn’t showered since he moved in with Steve a week ago and had been staying cooped up in his room spending as little time around his roommate as possible, only coming out for an occasional meal and drinks.

Hours pass and still no sign of Bucky leaving his room yet soft whimpers could be heard from the other side of the door. Steve knocks on the door, asking to come in, but he gets no response. “Bucky?” he calls out, getting worried. Still no response. Quietly, he opens the door just enough to peek in but soon regrets it.

His best friend is curled up atop the covers sobbing into his pillow, surrounding him are ripped up pieces of paper, five unopened boxes of unprescribed tablets and a bottle of vodka. Steve couldn’t make out most of the words on the pieces of paper but he could see the words ‘sorry’ and ‘for the best’.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's state worsens, making Steve call Dr Bruce Banner to try and help the situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls comment improvements i desperately need them omg

“Bucky?”

His whole body freezes. No more shaking, no more whimpering, still crying but quieter. “What have you done?” Steve whispers, not wanting an answer but needing to know if he’s in any danger. No reply comes from the body on the bed which only makes him more worried than before. “Bucky? Did you do anything?” All he wanted was a reaction from Bucky, anything, but he wasn’t getting the slightest movement from him. 

Steve carefully opens the door so he doesn’t make a sound, walks through and closes it behind him, still not making a sound. Looking at the bed he notices more of the words written on the ripped up paper: ‘HYDRA’ ‘mission’ ‘torture’ ‘wiped’ ‘Steve’. There was one piece that caught his eye, a piece laid next to Bucky’s head that was almost completely scribbled out. He goes to pick up what was on the scrap of paper only to have his hand slapped out of the way and the paper tucked tight into Buck’s body. Whatever was said on the paper must’ve been bad for it to be hidden so hastily like that. “Look at me and tell me if you’ve done anything,” demanded Steve, “or else im calling a doctor to come over.” With that, Bucky looks at Steve, mutters a simple “I’m fine, I’m safe,” before getting up and taking baby strides into the bathroom, a room unfamiliar to him. Steve checked the bed for the paper he wanted to read, but it was gone, along with the 70cl bottle of vodka, causing him to sigh. Was Bucky really safe?

Shower water splashed onto the bathtub, signifying that Bucky was finally doing something to take care of himself, even if it involved a bottle of vodka. Checking through all the paper as he does it, Steve cleans the bed of its items, making sure to read every word and piece together in his mind why Bucky was thinking of hurting Steve like this. Boxes of pills were still left on the bed, he was too scared to look if they had been used or not, but he still checked. A sigh of relief, all there. He made sure to hide them all in a place where Buck would never find them, he didn’t want to risk losing him again. Taking his phone from his pocket and dialling the person he needed to the most, he swiftly migrated into his own room and flopped onto the bed, sighing.

“Hello?” A confused voice asked from the other end of the call.  
“Hey Bruce. Do you think you can do me a massive favour, like now?”  
“I’m not sure, it depends. What’s happened? Are you okay?” Confusion turned into worry almost instantly.  
“Yeah, I’ll explain fully in a bit, do you think you can check on Bucky? He’s been acting weird lately and I need to know what’s wrong with him,” Steve sounded defeated, he thought he had been helping Bucky for so long, but he hadn’t.   
“Oh yeah course, I’ll come round now. Sorry what’s your address again?” 

Steve quickly told Bruce the address before saying thanks and hanging up the phone. Looking up, he saw Bucky in the doorway, having to hold on to the frame to steady himself, “I’m fine you know, I don’t need a doctor,” his words heavily slurred. Buck walks into the room and steadies himself on the radiator, hiccuping. “How much did you drink?” asked Steve softly, not wanting to make a fuss. Two empty bottles of vodka were dropped on the floor in front of him, how he managed to sneak a second one in the bathroom Steve would never know. For a super soldier he got drunk fast; no matter how hard Steve had tried he just couldn't do it but clearly Bucky had managed it.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed,” Steve rises from his own bed and wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulder to steady him. As if by instinct, Buck leans into his side as they slowly stumble into the other bedroom. “Don’t move, okay?” Steve lets go of Bucky next to the wardrobe and waits to make sure he won’t fall before sorting the bed out. He fluffs and flips the pillow so it's not a moist mess for the drunken man. The bed sheets are neatened and pulled down so Bucky could get in. Steve once again wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulder and guided him to the bed, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself in the process. Buck lays down, almost losing his balance as he tries getting onto the bed. ‘Why did he do this?’ Steve wonders before tucking him into bed and making sure he’s comfy. “I’m gonna go get you some water, alright? Do you want anything to eat?” Buck nods and shows a sloppy, gentle smile. Steve runs his fingers through his wet, somehow still greasy hair and sets off to the kitchen to make a basic meal. 

10 minutes later and he’s sat on the chair next to Bucky’s bed, both of them eating cheese toasties. A knock can be heard from the front door, startling the drunk one. “Hey, it's okay, it’s just the door. I’ll be back in a minute alright,” Steve stands and sets his plate aside, walking out to let his other close friend in. Bucky takes the opportunity to sneak out a bottle of bourbon from under his bed. Steve couldn’t find out about the stash, it was there for when Bucky needed comforting the most, which was usually during the night. But since the nightmare he’d had and Steve trying to comfort him, he needed something to take the edge off.

Bruce and Steve spoke downstairs while Bucky was sneaking as much alcohol as he could; Steve explained in detail everything that was happening with Buck recently and how oddly he had been acting compared to before. To his surprise, not one detail was forgotten when explaining the hardships Bucky seemed to be facing. 

“Okay, so from what you’re telling me it seems that Bucky is having post traumatic nightmares which are affecting his mental health severely. His emotional outburst and isolation are symptoms of depression, along with the decreased appetite and minimal sleep. It seems to be pretty bad, I don’t really know what to say other than he’s gonna need to talk to a trained therapist to get over everything and hopefully lower the risk of him, you know, ending everything,” Bruce tried explaining everything in a way where Steve wouldn’t react too badly, but obviously he had found a way to blame himself for Bucky’s health. “Look, there’s nothing you can do except be there for him when he needs you. It’s not your fault,” pulling Steve into a hug, Bruce rubs his back and attempts to make him feel better about everything. 

The comforting silence of the two hugging was soon interrupted by the sound of shattering glass followed by a loud, muffled “fuck!” from across the apartment. Steve and Bruce exchange glances before exploring the source of the noise; Bucky was face down on the floor at the corner of the room, surrounded by shards of glass and various liquids on the carpet. Steve turns to face Bruce, giving him a distressed look then turns back around and heads towards Buck. He begins to pick up the larger shards in the vicinity, although most of them are too small for him to even see, until he sees specks of red liquid on the once cream carpet. Almost instantaneously, Steve lifts Bucky off the ground before gently placing him back into his bed and checking for the wounds. 

A few small cuts were dotted around his face, mainly along his cheeks, yet there was a larger cut just below his right eye which seemed to not stop bleeding. “Bruce could you take a look at this?” Steve pleas as he carries on picking up the pieces of glass he can see on the floor. He clambers onto his knees to look harder and notices the top of the broken bottle peeking from under the bed; behind it was a large assortment of bottles, some containing spirits and beers, the rest being empty.   
“Steve?”  
“Yeah Buck?”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“I know, get some rest, sober up,” neither of them had attempted to look at the other, knowing it would cause a wave of emotions: Bucky’s emotional overflow would be because he thinks he’s making Steve’s life harder and he just feels like a burden to everyone, so seeing the man he loves disappointed in him would hurt more than anything he could imagine; on the other hand, Steve’s emotions would be from how different Bucky’s behaviour is from anything he’d seen before and how lost the man looked when doing this to himself, he’d never liked seeing people hurt but when it was Bucky, everything just felt worse. 

Making a quick escape, Steve stared at the floor and lead the way to the front door, knowing his sober friend would eventually follow. He paced outside the apartment until Bruce finally arrived after examining the cut, “it looks fine, there’s no glas-”  
“What am I gonna do? I can’t have him hurting himself like this,” cutting Bruce off yet speaking more to himself than his friend. He also made sure that the door was shut and that Bucky wasn’t secretly listening in on their conversation.  
“Look, I’ll get him a therapist as soon as I can, I’m not sure how long it’s gonna be though.”  
“You better make it soon,” a small wave of anger coming over him.  
“I’ll try but I can’t make any promises. Why’re you getting mad about this?”

“Because I fucking love him Bruce.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry omg this took way too long i had rlly bad writers block. enjoy the trash chapter

Shocked, Bruce gave Steve a confused, hurt glance. “You’re gay? Why didn’t you tell anyone?” With that, Steve sighs, regretting even bringing him over. “Just forget it, I’m obviously not gay I just care about him. I said I loved him because I do platonically. Can you leave now? I need to make sure he isn’t breaking anything else,” Bruce nods lightly, leaving Steve to look after Bucky again.

He stayed stood in the doorway, thinking. He knew he was suppressing who he really was but he didn’t want to accept it, he wanted to change it. Steve just wanted to be the role model he was told he was ever since he got the serum: a strong, straight man with a heart of gold. He wondered what it would have been like coming out in the 1940s, when it was so frowned upon, he hated the idea; maybe that’s what scared him into staying closeted for so long, even when he knew some of his friends would be accepting. He wondered how long it would take for him to change his preference from liking both men and women to liking just women. He didn’t want the world thinking he was weaker because he wasn’t straight; he knew everyone’s perception of him would change if they knew. 

Swiftly escaping his thoughts, he goes properly inside and stood outside his friend’s bedroom to see how he was doing. Friend, nothing more, nothing less. “Hey Buck, you alright?” a simple question earning a simple nod from the man laid in bed with his face buried in the mountain of pillows. “Do you want anything? Maybe like a glass of water or something,” he trailed off his sentence when Bucky’s head pops up from the pillows, “popcorn,” he slurred, sounding vaguely like a short viral video Clint had shown him a few weeks ago. “Stay there, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Steve says making his way into the kitchen once again.

He grabbed 2 clean glasses from the cupboard and filled them with tap water, adding ice cubes to make it at least drinkable. Next came the difficult part, finding the popcorn. Steve knew that there would be a bag of shop-bought popcorn somewhere yet all he could find was the kind you have to pop yourself. Not wanting to startle his friend anymore, he left the kernels where they were and carried on searching for what felt like forever. Eventually, he finally found a large bag and sighed in relief. Who knew he would stress so much over a snack. 

After finding a way to balance the glasses of water and a bag of salted popcorn, Steve briskly makes his way back to Bucky’s room. He gently places one glass on the bedside cabinet and gives the other to Buck, making sure he drinks it without spilling it everywhere. “I was thinking we could watch a film? If you want,” the blonde asks, earning a subtle nod before making his way to sit on the chair beside the bed. Before he gets a chance to sit down, a hand grabs his arm, making him stop. “Bed,” a small voice demands. “You want me to lay in bed with you?” Steve questions, earning another nod and a shy smile. He’d never seen this side of Bucky before and it scared him, what if something bad happens?

Buck shuffled over as far as he could without falling to give his roommate enough space to lay with him. He feels the bed dip as Steve swaps from the chair to the surprisingly comfortable bed. To Steve, all beds were too soft, it was as if he was laying on a marshmallow and would sink into the floor any minute, but this was different; not solid like the beds in the war but not soft enough to feel like he was sinking. It was perfect.

The duvet covering both the men was thin and had a ‘dark white’ cover as Bucky liked to call it- even though he knew it was grey- with darker grey stripes across it horizontally. About 5 pillows were used on the single bed, making Steve worry about Bucky’s neck greatly, and they were all covered in plain cases in different shades of grey to match the duvet cover. Around the room white furniture was used and 2 empty shelves were placed on the wall to the left of the bed. They seemed to be a waste of space since Bucky never used them, but they kept the room looking minimalistic, which was better for him. Black curtains were used to cover the large window on the wall to the right of the bed, contrasting the 3 barely grey walls and the one feature wall with wallpaper made to look like pale grey bricks. It was an aesthetically pleasing room, which seemed to help Buck when he awoke in the middle of the night from his nightmares.

“So what do you wanna watch?” Steve asked. The two of them hadn’t watched a movie together since before the war but Steve had watched quite a lot when he lived in the Avengers Tower, considering Tony had a soft spot for movies and Sam wanted to teach him what he’d missed in the past 70 years. Steve loved it there, everyone was so friendly with him, he could do pretty much anything he wanted, he had his own room he could decorate; it was an amazing place to live, he just couldn’t stay. He had felt like a burden since the day he moved in, but Bucky being alive and safe gave him the perfect excuse to move out without being too awkward about everything, even though he kept most of his belongings in the tower, just in case.

He didn’t take too many items back to the new apartment, only what was necessary for him and his roommate; this included a few outfits, any food he’d bought and some duvet covers to fit both of their beds. Everything else in the apartment was bought new and arranged to look like the apartment they shared in Brooklyn during the war. He thought it might have been too much for Bucky, making everything seem the same as it was back when they were both happy, maybe it seemed like he was trying too hard. The truth was, he wanted Buck to feel at ease around him, meaning Steve would try everything he could to help Bucky to feel more comfortable with his new life and help him get past what he had done for 70 years when he had no control over himself.

“Stevie,” the cheery voice snaps him out of his thoughts and draws his attention to Bucky, who’s poking one of his large biceps trying not to giggle. Steve couldn’t help but appreciate how cute Buck was being when he was drunk. But then again, when was he not cute? He shifts his gaze from the man poking his muscles to the TV showing the Netflix homepage. While going through his list, he sees a film Sam had told him was a piece of art and needed to be watched as soon as possible, “does this look like a good film to you?” Steve looks down at Bucky, hoping for a good reaction but only sees one of confusion, “what’s a Shrek?” “I don’t know, let’s find out.”

By the end of the 95-minute masterpiece, the two men were physically closer than they’d ever been. The two bodies had been pressed against each other for around half of the film, their limbs tangled together seamlessly as if made for each other. The smaller man’s head was nuzzled deeply into the blonde’s warm chest, allowing him to hear the rhythmic heartbeat of the man he’s cherished most of his life. Now the tables were turning, Steve had started caring for him more than he used to, mainly due to the fact that he physically doesn’t need to be looked after by Buck anymore. Of course Steve thought everything was platonic; because how could two grown men cuddling so close and clearly caring so much not be platonic?

Steve reaches over to get his phone from the bedside cabinet, causing Buck to groan. He opens messages and begins to text Sam.

Steve: ok what was shrek ?? why did i need to watch a film about ogres and a talking donkey  
Sam: Wow, took you long enough to watch it  
Steve: wish I didnt now  
Sam: Aww come on you don’t mean that, did you not like it?  
Steve: how could i like that  
Sam: Idk maybe because it’s the perfect cartoon  
Steve: hmmm alright, well bucky seemed to enjoy it so youre off the hook this time  
Sam: Wow I’m so scared Rogers. What you gonna do, throw a shield at me?  
Steve: i hate you.  
Sam: You love me really :))  
Steve: you know i dont  
Steve: anyway gotta go, my attentons needed elsewhere  
Sam: Wow I’m hurt. You can’t do this to me Rogers

Steve’s phone was already back on the cabinet before Sam could send his message, meaning his attention was back on the half-asleep Bucky laid incredibly close to him. Steve searched for the TV remote, making sure all his movements were minimal as he knew Buck wouldn’t want to be disturbed again, before turning the volume down to 5 and putting on The Office. He had only started watching The Office a couple of weeks ago because he’d caught Clint laughing at a prank one of the characters had pulled. It soon turned into one of his favourite shows.

The rest of his night was spent watching The Office and making sure Bucky was alright. He had decided it would be best for him to stay the night in Buck’s room, only because he wasn’t sure what would happen if he wasn’t there. Besides, he wanted everything to be peaceful, and waking someone up because you don’t want to cuddle isn’t going to keep peace. Steve really didn’t want to stay like that, he didn’t want someone walking in and thinking that the two were something they weren’t, it scared him too much. But what else could he do?


End file.
